


Every Third Thursday

by epkitty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Post-War, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-28
Updated: 2011-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epkitty/pseuds/epkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two men withdraw from society.  Pre-slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Third Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Tarot card 09, The Hermit. A bit AU, in that this story takes place with the assumption that after the last battle, Percy is still estranged from his family, and Gilderoy has reached a level of self-sufficiency that he can live by himself. This was originally a much longer story with more characters, but it ended up getting pared down to what you see here.

On the third Thursday of every month, at precisely two o’clock in the afternoon, the clock in Gilderoy Lockhart’s workroom chimed and brilliant blue eyes glanced up to see one of three hands pointing at ‘teatime.’

“Time to get ready! Time to get ready!” called the tiny cuckoo bird that shot out of its little hole at the top of the clock.

“Time to get ready…” the man muttered to himself, still hunched over the miniature cauldron, wand pointing steadily at the murky innards. He again turned his eyes to the clock. “Teatime?” he wondered. Glazed eyes slowly cleared and he perked up, sitting straight and looking at the calendar pinned to the wall. The square days of October had been carefully crossed off in jagged dashes of red ink underneath the glossy black and white photo of Diagon Alley, with shoppers bustling from one shop to another amid clusters of flashing Halloween decorations.

The next unchecked rectangle informed Gilderoy that it was the third Thursday of October, and there – in his careful scrawl – was written, _home, tea @ 3, w/_. Apparently, he had not finished the note, but no bother. “No bother,” he said to both clock and calendar, “I know whom I’m to have over for tea!” He spoke with more gusto than he felt, but he was certain he had at least fooled the clock, whose tiny red and blue bird curiously peeked out of the crooked wooden door with its black bead eyes to chirrup encouragingly at him.

Gilderoy stood and stretched with a self-indulgent yawn before secreting his wand away in the blue folds of his robe. He pushed the diminutive cauldron and a few other out-of-place items closer to the center of the worktable. He never had recovered any grace he might once have possessed, and he would just as soon not break anything because of a misplaced elbow.

An ominous crunching sound reverberated through the room from the direction of the garden. Gilderoy rambled to the window to find the Venomous Tentacula munching its lunch, which appeared to have been a curious crow, if the wing still sticking out of its crunching orifice was any indication.

Pushing his attention beyond the confines of his small garden, Gilderoy took a moment to admire the gray-blue horizon, and the scraps of early-snow-patched land between – which could arguably be called a forest – that were generously blanketed with the light of a startlingly bright autumn sun. Lest he be caught in the sight, as his attention was sometimes trapped, Gilderoy drew away with regret and left his spacious workroom for the dark hallway beyond.

The visiting room, as he called it, served variously as parlor, study, withdrawing room, library, and tearoom. Gilderoy took his time of the ritual, pulling back the fine but old draperies and tying them away from the window with the silk cords. He did not use magic. He looked over the bookshelves; they were not overly dusty, so he left them. He pulled the square table to the center of the room over the thick rug, and then pushed two mismatched and worn chairs around it. He fetched the china, old and ill-assorted, but neither cracked nor chipped. He laid out the tablecloth and the plates, the saucers and the silver. He folded the cloth napkins with compulsive precision.

The kitchen awaited him next, where boxes and bags of treats fresh from the bakery were waiting for him on the counter. He opened the crackers and cookies; there were even scones, for he did not trust his own cookery in the slightest. Not for guests, anyway. The treats he arranged on ceramic plates with the same meticulous care he’d paid to the napkins. He liked to have things just so, on occasion.

He filled the time until three o’clock with such chores until the tea kettle whined at him just as the doorbell clanged and the cuckoo’s voice chirped through the house, “Wizard at the door, Gilderoy! Wizard at the door!”

Gilderoy spelled out the flame under the steaming kettle and calmly walked to the front door, opening it to reveal a tall, lanky, freckled man. “Do come in, Percy; good to see you.”

“Likewise,” Percy acknowledged, stepping into the dark house so Gilderoy could shut the door. Percy removed his cloak and turned to the closet off the foyer.

But Gilderoy interrupted him. “Allow me,” he said, taking the cloak from his visitor. “How have you been?” he cautiously asked.

Percy shrugged as he thought of a suitable response and watched the blonde wizard hang his cloak with care in the closet alongside Gilderoy’s colorful capes and coats. “About as usual,” he conceded.

Gilderoy shut the closet door and turned to face him, examining his visitor with those intense blue eyes. "Well, come in."

"I am in."

"Of course. Then let's have our tea; the water's just heated."

Percy shadowed Gilderoy into the kitchen to watch him poor the water from the kettle into the teapot with his typical movements, characterized by sloth and care. Percy carried the tea tray into the little visiting room, where they settled themselves in the comfortable chairs with the faded upholstery.

Gilderoy poured the tea as Percy helped himself to a few biscuits.

On the wall above them, the cuckoo clock ticked quietly, having moved mysteriously from the workroom to the visiting room, and the little bird poked its curious head from its door to watch them.

Percy bit his lip, waiting for someone to break the silence, but Gilderoy seemed lost in his own world and disinclined to say anything for the foreseeable future.

"How is the petite cauldron coming along?"

"Oh that. Well, I've found a long list of many things that don't work."

"It's a start, then," Percy said, adding sugar to his tea. "And how is the clock working out for you?"

"Oh!" Gilderoy's blue eyes lit up as he smiled openly at his visitor. "It's absolutely delightful, keeps me all up to date; I can't think how I lived without him before!"

"Him?"

"I suppose it's a him," Gilderoy said, wonderingly. "I assumed, I guess."

Percy looked up at the bird, who swiftly pulled its head back, the tiny door swinging shut. "He appears to be quite a character."

"And you?" Gilderoy asked.

"What about me?"

"How are… things?"

Percy shrugged, blowing at his tea to cool it. "Er. Fine. You know, work keeps me busy."

"What about outside of work?"

"You always ask the difficult questions," Percy told him.

"Then, why do you keep coming back?"

Percy looked up to meet wide, guileless eyes. "You know at first, it was because I pitied you. All alone in this big, run-down house… I thought someone ought to keep an eye on you."

"I appreciated it."

"But, then I liked coming to see you. And I knew the ministry had all sorts of little projects it wasn't getting to. Things that were time-consuming, but not - you know - dangerous, and I thought you could do with something to keep you busy."

"You may well have saved my life with that," Gilderoy said.

And Percy would have thought he was being dramatic, except that Gilderoy was never dramatic; not anymore.

"Because you're right," Gilderoy went on. "I don't know what I would have done with myself in this place all alone."

Percy shrugged and looked resolutely at his tea. "I'm glad. But now, I enjoy coming here. I like your company."

Gilderoy smiled. "Of course, I enjoy your company as well, but I don't have much to compare it to."

"Others would assure you that I'm incredibly dull, I'm sure."

"Ridiculous," Gilderoy said.

"I used to be an incredibly pompous bore. Now I'm just boring."

Gilderoy sat looking at his guest for a long time, his tea cooling in its cup. Finally, he said, "You're my only friend, Percy, so I'm loath to say anything that might put you off. But if I'm to be your friend as well, I have to tell the truth, and ask for it, too. Why haven't you reconnected with your family?"

Percy just sat, drinking his tea mechanically, and then eating cookies once his cup was drained. "Um. Mm. You do ask the hard ones, don't you?" His voice was pitifully soft. "But do you know, you're my only friend as well, Gilderoy?"

"I can't believe that. What do you _do_ all day?"

"I work. It keeps me busy," Percy said, clarifying many things.

"Well, I have a good many reasons for hiding away," Gilderoy said, his eyes drifting to a much-perused shelf of particular books, "What's your excuse?"

Percy stilled, even his breath grew shallow. "I was on the wrong side."

"Don't be ridiculous. You never supported You-Know-Who."

"That doesn't matter," Percy whispered.

"That's _all_ that matters," Gilderoy argued. "I think you're being extraordinarily stubborn for all the wrong reasons. Your family _must_ \--"

"My family mustn't anything," Percy interrupted in the voice of a strict Head Boy.

"Then maybe you must be the one to go back to them."

"It's been too long," Percy said. "It's too late."

"That's fatalistic," Gilderoy said. "I might say it's too late for myself, but I don't. This, here, is a new beginning. Maybe you need one, too."

"You're naturally optimistic."

"You aren't?" Gilderoy asked.

"I'm naturally pompous."

"Not with me."

"I've toned it down a bit, in recent years."

"Somehow," Gilderoy smiled, "you've managed to change the subject."

"Pass the jam?"

Gilderoy kept smiling as he obediently handed over the jam.

Percy carefully spread an even layer of gooseberry jam over his scone and bit into it.

"Someday," Gilderoy told him while he couldn't talk back, "I'm going to drag you over there myself. Once, you know, I get my bearings back."

Percy swallowed his mouthful before asking, "Still getting lost in your own house?"

"No, as a matter of fact. But my tendency to misplace things is… lamentable. And I haven't the courage to wander the grounds out of sight of the house."

"That's probably a wise choice. Maybe…"

"Yes?"

"We only meet once a month. But maybe I can come by next week. We could go for a long walk before it gets any colder. Have a bit of a picnic."

"That sounds delightful!"

"Agreed, then," Percy said, offering a rare smile.

"Yes. Yes, agreed."

= = = = =

The End


End file.
